


Pilot

by DaydreamDestiel



Series: Supernatural, Starring You [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamDestiel/pseuds/DaydreamDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey.” Dean greeted. He was looking up at you with those to die for green eyes, that little half smile on his face that always made your heart stutter and you could tell by the creases in the corners of his eyes and the way his brows were drawn slightly together that something was wrong.<br/>“Dean, what’s-“ You started, as you slid down off the hood of the truck, stomach sinking. “what’s going on? Is Sam okay? Is John okay?”<br/>“It’s probably nothing.” He told you, one shoulder shrugging. He always had been protective of you. It was probably the most irritating and adorable thing he did. You were a big girl, same age as he was, just as capable. Your father had raised you in the life same as his. Only difference was, your father hadn’t dragged you all over the country. You walked over, stopping close but not too close to him. You could smell him, all leather, spice and a faint trace of whiskey.<br/>“It’s never nothing.” You retorted grimly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Just tell me what’s going on.”<br/>“I just… I haven’t heard from dad in a few weeks. I wanted to check if your dad had heard from him, but he won’t pick up his damn phone for me.” He mumbled, trying to seem nonchalant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What if Bobby's wife hadn't died until 1980? What if they'd resolved their argument, and in 1979 they had a baby? That baby was you. In 1980, she was possessed by a demon, Bobby kills her, and everything else is basically the same. This is sort of an AU, starting at the Pilot. Each part of this series will be a new episode staring you and the Winchesters. It all started when Dean picked you up to help him convince Sam to come with him to find John, and things evolve from there. You had no idea that you would end up where you did, but you loved every moment of your adventures with Sam and Dean. Traveling the country, fighting the good fight. Come hell or high water, there was no place you'd rather be. Eventual Dean/Reader.

You were sitting on the hood of the tow truck out front of your house when a familiar black impala pulled into view. You’d heard it before you’d seen it, and didn’t bother to look up when it skidded to a rough stop beside the truck you were perched on. You knew exactly who would be stepping out of that car any minute, and you knew your dad would pretend he was pissed. You also knew that he loved that boy, and would do anything for him. _Balls._

Your dad wasn’t the only one who loved Dean Winchester though, you’d been nursing a crush on him for basically as long as you could remember. He’d never so much as looked at you with the slightest interest though. You’d been unwillingly cast as pseudo-sister in the script of his life, and you very much doubted he’d ever see you differently. You’d never let him know how you felt though, because, how frigging embarrassing would it be for him to realize how pathetically into him you were.

You took a deep breath, tucked your hair behind one ear, and steeled yourself to look up at him when you heard the door of the impala open.

“Hey.” Dean greeted. He was looking up at you with those to die for green eyes, that little half smile on his face that always made your heart stutter and you could tell by the creases in the corners of his eyes and the way his brows were drawn slightly together that something was wrong.

“Dean, what’s-“ You started, as you slid down off the hood of the truck, stomach sinking. “what’s going on? Is Sam okay? Is John okay?”

“It’s probably nothing.” He told you, one shoulder shrugging. He always had been protective of you. It was probably the most irritating and adorable thing he did. You were a big girl, same age as he was, just as capable. Your father had raised you in the life same as his. Only difference was, your father hadn’t dragged you all over the country. You walked over, stopping close but not too close to him. You could smell him, all leather, spice and a faint trace of whiskey.

“It’s never nothing.” You retorted grimly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I just… I haven’t heard from dad in a few weeks. I wanted to check if your dad had heard from him, but he won’t pick up his damn phone for me.” He mumbled, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Yeah, he’s still kind of pissed at your dad. We haven’t seen him. Doesn’t John do this all the time though? He’s left you on your own for weeks before, hasn’t he?” You asked, gently, trying not to sound like you were judging. To tell the truth though, the way John had treated his boys had never sat well with you. Sometimes kids needed to be kids, even when you knew the things that went bump in the night weren’t nothing. You knew John loved them, but you wished sometimes that he’d sheltered them more. Especially Dean, could have used a little more sheltering.

“It’s different this time. He was hunting, and I just have this feeling. Look, I know it sounds dumb, but something’s wrong.” He said, shrugging again.

“What do you need me to do?” You asked, without a second thought. Dean wouldn’t have shown up here if he wasn’t desperate. Not knowing about the bad blood between your dads at the moment.

“I need to get Sammy. I need him on this with me.” Dean was giving you that kicked puppy look he got whenever he brought up Sam these days. “It’s not going to be easy. He won’t want to come. I could-” He cleared his throat, and you knew how hard it was for him to ask you. “I could use your help. He’ll listen to you.”

It was true that Sam and you had been pretty close back in the day, and you did still send him postcards now and then, but he’d never answered them. You figured you reminded him too much of his shit family situation, and he wanted to focus on school. Sure, it had been a little painful losing one of your best friends, but you knew deep down it was best for him. Even if it wasn’t best for Dean. Did you really want to drag Sam back into all this? One look at Dean’s sad green eyes, and you’d have done anything for him. You sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over your face.

“Let me talk to dad. He’s not gonna like it. Tell you the truth though, I was already planning on doing some travelling. He was ok with me going to do that on my own, so now I just have to convince him it’s safer with you. He’ll eat that up.” You winked at Dean, joking. “What dad wouldn’t want a Winchester protecting his daughter?”

“This one.” Came your dad’s voice from behind you, making you jump about a foot, and drop the hand that was resting on Dean’s arm.

“Dad!” You squeaked, feeling 15 instead of 26, turning around woodenly to face him. “For fuck’s sake dad! Put down the damn gun. We all know you’re not gonna shoot Dean frigging Winchester!”

“Hey Bobby.” Dean said, with that ghost of a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“The hell I won’t young lady.” You rolled your eyes. “If you roll those eyes any harder, they’ll get stuck like that y’know.”

“Let me tell you how this is gonna go, _daddy_.” You said in the overly sweet voice that meant you were beyond pissed. “I’m going to tell you that I’m going with Dean Winchester to get his brother to find his dad. You’re going to think ‘the hell you are’ and then I’m going to remind you that I’m 26 years old. I’ve trained all my damn life to be a hunter, and I can take care of myself. You’re going to nut up and realize that I’m a grown woman who can go off with whoever she wants, and that I could do a whole hell of a lot worse than Dean god damn Winchester.” You caught Dean smirking at you out of the corner of your eye and shot him a glare. Your dad dropped the gun to his side and opened his mouth to offer one last protest, which you summarily interrupted.

“I know you worry about me.” You said gently. “You’re my dad, you’re supposed to. But this isn’t any different than letting me go off alone. Honestly, from your perspective, it should be better. You know Dean has a protective streak a mile wide and that he probably won’t even let me have any fun. So, just think of it like that.”

“I also know that Dean Winchester likes women.” Your dad said with a glare at Dean. Wait- did Dean just nod and grin? _Ugh._

“And? I like men. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let Dean anywhere near my- my bathing suit area.” You finished awkwardly. “I do have self-respect you know.”

“Hey!” Dean objected, you sent him a _shut-your-mouth-so-I-can-finish_ look, and he tilted his head in a little amused nod.

Your dad sighed, knowing that you were leaving with or without his permission.

“Balls.” He muttered, then threatened. “You had better keep her in one damn piece Dean.”

You looked back at Dean and rolled your eyes again. God knows if you’d been born a man, this whole damn conversation wouldn’t have even taken place. Why were the men in your life always trying to bubble wrap you?! You were easily as good a hunter as Dean. Maybe not quite as strong, but definitely a tad faster. Plus, you could almost always keep up with Sam intellectually too. You were not some frigging delicate god damn flower. If anything you were more of the Xena: Warrior Princess type. You had been hunting both with your dad, and, more often than not lately, on your own. Still, this was as close to a blessing as you were going to get, _not that you needed one, damn it_.

“Give me 10 minutes to grab my stuff.” You said to Dean. He nodded and smiled, and your heart fluttered in your chest. You managed to keep it off your face though, you had a hell of a poker face when you needed it. And you _always_ needed it around Dean.

You left the two men outside and quickly jogged up to your room. Grabbed a duffle bag out of your closet, already filled with most of your favorite weapons and a couple changes of clothes. Basically a badass get out of dodge bag. The you stuffed a few more changes of clothes into your bag. Briefly paused at the underwear drawer and wondered if you should go comfortable cottons, or sexy underthings.

Heck, it wasn’t like anything was gonna happen with Dean, so you were kind of leaning towards the plain cotton. But you _knew_ , for a fact, that Dean would undoubtedly be sleeping his way across the country. You also knew that it would sting like a son of a bitch, and you’d probably go looking for comfort from some willing gentlemen, because hey, you were only human.

In the end you grabbed a handful of each and tossed them in the bag. A quick trip to the bathroom had your toothbrush, toothpaste, favorite shampoo and conditioner, as well as the tiny bag of makeup you owned, packed to go as well. Now that your bag weighed nearly a ton, you shouldered it, and took a last look at your house. It was time for a new chapter in your life you decided.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean pulled alongside an apartment building in Palo Alto, giving it a disgusted look as he cut the engine. It had taken you just over 30 hours of switching shifts, peppered with a few short bathroom breaks and pit stops, to drive all the way from Sioux Falls. You jumped out of the car as soon as it was stopped and stretched, reaching over your head, to let your cramped muscles relax.

The drive hadn’t been awful or anything, mostly you took turns sleeping, and listened to Dean’s classic rock tapes. Thankfully you shared his taste in music, because Dean was always touchy about his music. Oh, and tried to think about something other than the fact that you were alone with Dean, and he smelled fucking fantastic and looked even better.

You could see Dean still sitting behind the wheel, and you sighed. He was going to need a pep talk to get him going. You’d always been able to read Dean like a book, and you could tell he was scared, no terrified actually, that his brother would say no. More than anything, Dean wanted to piece his broken family back together. He was like wet glue, he couldn’t hold John and Sam together long enough for it to stick, and it killed him. He also had a healthy dose of pride, and choking it down to ask Sam for help was going to be hard.

You opened the door and ducked your head back in, hair falling over your shoulders as you did.

“Come on, Dean-o. You got this. He’s your brother, he’ll come.” You told him, hoping it was the truth, because as close as you’d been to Sam, he probably wasn’t the same guy you knew. He’d actually gotten himself out of the life. Carved out a nice little slice of normal for himself, and you didn’t know if he’d give it up, even temporarily. Even for Dean. Still, you didn’t let Dean see the thoughts running through your head. You focused instead on seeming calm and sure of your own words.

You watched Dean nod, as he looked straight ahead, white knuckling the wheel. You felt like someone was squeezing your heart, because it actually physically hurt to see him like this.

“Seriously, Dean, just trust me. It’ll be fine. Want me to come up with you?” You asked, not sure if you were just there for support or if Dean wanted you to guest star in his appeal.

He shook his head, and you saw the moment he switched from vulnerable to Dean Winchester: The Cocky Hunter. Also known as, faking it til he makes it. He grinned up at you, but it wasn’t a happy smile.

“Nah, I can handle Sammy. Why don’t you wait at the car?” He said brightly. You smiled back warmly, hoping it would calm his nerves a little, and nodded.

He climbed out of the car and you watched him head for the fire escape. _What the hell is he doing?_ Then it clicked, _Dean you idiot._ He didn’t think that Sam would let him in if he just buzzed the ringer like a normal damn human being. He was going to break in. You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. This was going to end with black eyes and fat lips, you just knew it.

You waited patiently outside the car for what felt like a small eternity. Still no sign of them. You decided to stretch out a bit more before you had to cram yourself back into the impala. You had just started stretching one hamstring when a flurry of activity coming down out the little door sunken down just behind the impala startled you upright.

“Man, Dean, we were raised like warrior-“ Sam cut himself off when he saw you standing there. “Y/N?”

“Heya, Sam.” You smiled warmly at him. He looked good, despite the circumstances, and he was a sight for sore eyes. “Missed your face you big jerk.”

“So, what are you gonna do?” Interrupted Dean, “You just gonna live some apple pie normal life? Is that it?”

“No. Not normal, safe.” Sam replied, eyes cutting back to Dean.

“And that’s why you ran away?” Dean asked with a hint of disgust in his voice. Woah, you were staying the hell out of this fight. _Not touching this with a ten and a half foot pole._

“I was just going to college. It was dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. Ant that’s what I’m doing.” Sam told him angrily.

“Yeah well, dad’s in real trouble right now. If he’s not dead already. I can feel it.” Dean answered, trying to make Sam understand that he needed his help. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Sam said, eyes flicking to you. “You’ve got Y/N with you.”

“Woah, no, no, no, you don’t Sam Winchester. Don’t you dare put me in the middle of this. Because trust me bucko, you don’t want my opinion.” You told him, holding your hands up in front of you.

“Really Sam? You think she’s ready to go after the thing that got _dad_?” Dean said skeptically and you cut him a death glare. “ _Our Dad,_ Sammy? With just me to keep her out of trouble?”

You knew that Dean was casting wildly for anything to get Sam to come but that actually kind of stung. Sure, whatever got John Winchester was probably a bad son of bitch, but making you out to be helpless? Dean’s eyes flashed from Sam, to you, begging you silently to help him. You sighed gustily.

“And gee, Sam, what about my honor? You really think I should be left alone with your brother? What about the sanctity of my virtue? It’s practically unethical for you to not come.” You said, trying not to let the sarcasm into your voice too much. Sam actually cracked a smile at you, there was the guy you knew. Couldn’t resist helping a damsel in distress. Even if he knew you were a fake one (because let’s face it, _no one_ had missed the sarcasm in your voice).

“Yeah Sammy, think about her honor. She needs you on this.” Dean said, winking at you. Somehow you’d managed to defuse the situation a little, just enough for Dean to get out, “I need you on this.”

Sam scratched the back of his head, and took a deep breath. You held your own, waiting to hear what he would say.

“What was he hunting?” Sam grumbled. You pumped your fist in the air with triumph. The two boys stared at you.

“Oh, uh, are we not doing that? I thought we were having a moment. No? Just me? Well, then, I’ll be in the car, eating my embarrassment.” You half-joked, feeling giddy with the success of your first objective. You opened the back door and slipped in, letting Dean fill Sam in on the details. You took the opportunity to pull a half eaten chocolate bar from the grocery bag on the seat, and kept good on your word. _Wouldn’t it be nice if chocolate could actually cure humiliation?_ Not that you were humiliated or anything. _Just in general, then when you ate your feelings it would actually make you feel better instead of worse? Right?_

You heard the trunk open behind you, and the muffled sounds of Dean explaining the case John had been working on to Sam. You found yourself actually worrying about John, which was unusual, because you’d always sort of thought of him as a superman type. Like maybe he was invulnerable? Clearly he was only human, but one hell of a badass human.

Your mind drifted back to the details Dean had already shared with you. There was a stretch of highway in Jericho, California that had seen 10 men missing over the past 20 years, only their cars left behind. All gone from the same 5-mile stretch of black top. Plus, he’d let you listen to the voicemail John had left him. He’d mentioned something big going on, and to be very careful. You had to admit, it was ominous that John had gone missing shortly after leaving it.

The worry was back tightening your chest. You didn’t think that Dean could take losing John, not when he’d already lost Sam in all the ways that counted. You turned to glance out the back window just in time to see Dean slam the lid down and lean back against the back end. You didn’t make out what he said, but you did see Sam’s reaction. Hope sparked at the look on his face, he said something to Dean, and then he was walking away. Your face fell, _seriously Sam?_

You ran a hand through your hair, preparing to pick up the broken pieces of Dean that were undoubtedly scattered all over the road out there. Dean looked down through the glass at you and grinned, giving you a thumbs up. _What the?_ Dean laughed at the surprise look on your face and moved around to the side you were sitting in. You rolled down the window, and he ducked his head in a little.

“He’s coming.” He told you, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. His eyes said everything, He was thrilled that Sam was coming. It meant that there was a chance, however slim, of getting the band back together. You smiled, happy for him, and hoped the two of them would work their shit out. Even if Sam chose to come back to Stanford after, maybe you could help them to maintain some kind of relationship. In fact, you decided, you would make it your mission.

“Great!”


	3. Chapter 3

You’d been driving for roughly 4 hours or so, long enough to watch the sun breach the horizon and rise up into the sky. You had sat quietly, giving the boys their space, but things had gotten tense fast; and then no one knew what to say, and Dean had cranked the music. You’d just slid down into the seat, letting your head rest against the back, and stared out the window. You’d been lost in your own thoughts, mostly about how much you could use a shower right now, when Dean had abruptly pulled off into a run down looking gas station.

You could tell by the dilapidated exterior that the bathrooms were going to be something out of a nightmare, but you’d needed to pee for the last hour. You hadn’t said anything because you didn’t want to be the first one to break. Right about now, you kinda wished you had though.

Dean jumped out and headed into the store and you sighed, getting out, and grabbing the messenger bag you were using as a makeshift purse/catch all/necessities holder. Might as well attempt to freshen up a little since you were going to have to subject yourself to the bathroom anyway.

You glanced down at your jeans, and decided for good measure to tuck them into your boots, just in case the washroom was as bad as you were picturing it. Dean was on his way back out the door as you approached, you quirked a smile at the pack of lifesavers hanging out of his mouth, a bottle of pop and bag of chips in his hand. He smirked and shrugged a shoulder, holding the door open for you.

You waved to the attendant, and made your way over the bathrooms, nose wrinkling in disgust. It wasn’t as bad as you’d anticipated, but the floor was caked with grime. At least the toilet had been cleaned, and that was a relief.

Once you’d used the washroom, and washed your hands, you splashed cool water on your face. You dried off with a piece of rough paper towel, and looked into the mirror. Your hair was sticking up in a weird way, and you groaned. You felt like something the cat dragged in. You ran a hand through your hair, and fixed it as best you could. It could, sort of be interpreted as sexy bedhead, you guessed.

Your eyes looked a bit tired, but there wasn’t much you could do about that, other than grab the tube of mascara from your bag and hope a coat of the waterproof stuff would magically make your eyes look bright and alert. You swiped it on, and then rooted through the bag again, grabbing the only other makeup item that wasn’t stashed in your giant duffle: a coconut-lime flavoured lip balm. The scent and taste reminded you of summer; warmth, sunshine, and that one time your dad had taken you to California to see the ocean. In other words, it reminded you of the good things. Maybe it was dumb that a lip balm could do that, but the way you saw it, good things were hard to come by. You would gladly take them in whatever form they came in.

You took a moment to stash the stuff back in your bag, swipe on some deodorant and a teeny tiny spritz of perfume. Years and years ago, someone had given you a little bottle of Fantasy (yes, it was a Brittany Spears perfume, but once it was out of the package no one would know, _geeze_ ), and you’d instantly liked the smell. It wasn’t an expensive perfume or anything, but it suited you, and you always made sure to burn the package, so no one would know you bought it. It was one of the few indulgences you allowed yourself. Sure, you were a hunter, but you also liked to be kinda girly _some_ of the time. And smelling like a sweet mixture of white chocolate, tropical flowers and tropical fruit made you feel a bit more feminine damn it. Plus, it was a hell of a lot better than smelling like you hadn’t had a shower in oh, nearly 48 hours now. _Eww_.

You glanced up into the mirror quickly, and smiled, not half bad for hauling ass. You thought you looked pretty decent, actually. Sure, your grey button up was wrinkled, and your lavender t-shirt had that worn, slept-in-it-for-a-couple-days sag to it, but overall, not bad. _Time to stop checking myself out,_ you reminded yourself, time was kinda of the essence here.

You swung open the door and quickly grabbed yourself some snacks for the road, paid and walked back to the car. You’d slid into the back seat just in time to hear the tail end of Dean’s patented ‘Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole’ speech. You bit back a grin and settled in.

Dean glanced at you in the mirror as he pulled away, and you had the distinct impression he’d found something funny because he bit his lip, and did that thing where he tried not to smile. You tried to ignore it, you really did, but your curiosity was always getting the better of you.

“What?” You asked, testily, sure you’d regret letting the question slip out.

“Just noticed that you took the time to put on makeup. For a hunt.” He said, barely supressing the laughter he was stifling.

“Shut up.” You said, sticking out your tongue.

“No, no, it could come in handy, Y/N.” He went on with a little chuckle. “Maybe you could, I dunno, give the monster a makeover? Invite it to a sleepover? Have a pillow fight in your underwear?” He was barely keeping it together by the end of his little speech.

“Shut up Dean.” Sam interrupted on your behalf, always the knight in shining armour.

“It’s okay Sam, I can handle Dean’s lack of decorum.” You replied, teasing. “It’s not his fault that he’s never kept a woman around long enough to notice that we tend to you know, freshen ourselves up in the morning, if we’re sticking around.”

“Ha-Ha. Very funny.” Dean said, sounding a bit annoyed as Sam laughed. _Whatever princess, can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen,_ you thought cheekily.

A short time later you were pulling past a worn out old sign that read Jericho, and Sam was hanging up his phone.

“There’s no one at the hospital or morgue matching dad’s description, so that’s something I guess.” He informed the two of you.

Just as he’d spoken you noticed a couple of cop cars up ahead on an old bridge. Dean spotted it too, because before you could say anything he was already pointing it out. He pulled over and reached into the glove box, pulling out a box of fake government badges. You unbuckled your seatbelt and slid forward to look over his shoulder. He had chosen the marshal’s badges for himself and Sam.

“Ooo. Mine’s in the trunk with my bag. I’ll go grab it.” You started to open your door.

“I think you should hang back Y/N.” Dean interjected, and your hand paused on the handle. “It’s gonna look weird if there are three of us.”

You tried to refrain from pouting, but your lips pursed involuntarily. When you’d told your dad Dean wasn’t going to let you have any fun you hadn’t known you were being serious.

“Next time, you can come and Sam can wait in the car.” He amended, noting your displeasure.

“Fine.” You sighed. “I’ll just be here. Bored. Eating junk food, and my feelings.”

Dean’s lips tugged up at the corners, and you couldn’t help but flash a small smile. Damn it, why did he have to have such an adorable god damn smile. You were pretty much powerless against it.

“At least leave the keys in so I can listen to some music.” You asked, and Dean put the keys back in and turned them until the music came back on. A Gift to the World by Loveless blared from the speakers and you smiled your thanks.

Once the boys had gotten out, you laid down in the back seat, stretching your arms up to make a pillow under your head, and closing your eyes to enjoy the music. It hadn’t even been five minutes when the doors were both flung open angrily, and you jumped up confused.

“What’s-” You began, but were cut off by Sam.

“Another missing guy, just the car left. Cops have nothing.” He shot Dean a dirty look, and you had a feeling Dean had been less than polite with the cops. Something about the fact that cops, feds and pretty much law enforcement in general were bumbling around in the dark with no idea what they’d gotten mixed up in always managed to irritate Dean.

“Well, crap.” You swore.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Sam dropped you off at a shitty little motel to check in while they went to question the victim’s girlfriend. You went along with it, because you’d been dreaming of a hot shower and a little alone time for the last 10 hours.

Unfortunately, when you had made your way into the lobby you’d discovered there was only one room with 2 double beds left. Normally you would have just sprung for your own room, but beggar’s couldn’t be choosers, so you paid for the room and took the keys.

You walked to unit 8 on the bottom row, and slid the key in the lock. You opened the door and the musty small of cheap motel air assaulted your senses. _Ick._

The first thing you did, after dumping your bags on one of the beds (essentially claiming it), was to open all the windows to get some fresh air going. It was cool out, but chill was better than stink in your opinion. You then dug through your bag and pulled out your little bottle of perfume. You gave a couple small spritzes in the hope that it would help kill the smell. It did very little, to be honest, but it was enough that you could now inhale without wrinkling your nose. The lack of quality sleep time suddenly hit you, and you yawned deeply. You decided to just take a short little nap. You curled up on top of the blankets, not really wanting to see what was underneath them yet, and before long you were fast asleep.

Your dreams were fragmented and confusing, like most dreams, with an undercurrent of fear. Pretty much how every dream you had went. Then your dream shifted, and you were straddling Dean’s lap, his hands on your waist. _Woah, this got good fast._ You could feel the firm pressure of his erection between your legs and you shivered at the delicious sensation. _God, he feels so good._ You rocked against him, feeling his mouth on your neck, his hands skating up your body to palm your aching breasts. He pinched your hard nipples between his fingers, and his teeth grazed your neck while you continued to roll your hips. _So close._ Just as you felt your body tensing for what was easily going to be the best orgasm of your life, you woke up, startled. It took a moment for your groggy brain to place the noise you’d heard as a muffler backfiring.

 _Fuck._ You wondered if you had time to finish up, since you were still aching from your dream, panties soaked. _Yeah, fuck it_ , you thought, slipping a hand under the waistband of your pants, into your underwear. You were already so close it wouldn’t take long. You slid your fingers down to brush your clit, and you bit down on a moan, pleasure tingling through you. You worked your fingers quickly and lightly over the little bundle of nerves, and your legs shook slightly as you panted. You felt your muscles tensing already, everything tightening, and you pictured Dean’s hand in your pants instead of your own. That was all you needed to push you over the edge, trembling, eyes shut tight as you cried out his name.

You lay on your back, letting the aftershocks wash over you, and then pulled your hand out of your pants, wiping your fingers on the leg of your already dirty jeans. _Jesus._ You hadn’t meant to be quite so, uh, vocal toward the end there.

You caught your breath, and then wrinkled your nose. The room still smelled pretty awful, and your perfume wasn’t even helping to cover it anymore. Your thoughts drifted to Sam and Dean, they probably wouldn’t even notice the funky mildew/mold smell that still permeated the room. They’d spent much more time in places like this than you had. Your dads had both been hunters, but had a fundamental difference of opinion. Theirs dragged his sons around on his hunts while training them, brutally, efficiently, to take care of themselves so that one day they’d be hunters too.

Yours on the other hand, had yes, trained you to protect yourself, and taught you how to hunt, but he hadn’t dragged you all over hell’s half acre. He also hadn’t ever planned for you to be a hunter. His dreams for you had been all kinds of normal: college, marriage, babies. None of which you’d been interested in. It had taken a lot of convincing to get your dad to start letting you hunt with him, to train you to be a hunter.

You’d been able to tell he’d been disappointed, but you couldn’t spend your life pretending everything was roses and the world was a safe place. You didn’t think you’d ever want kids, because how could you bring a kid into the world, when you knew, _knew_ , all of the things that were out there. You would never be able to feel like they were safe. How could you raise someone like that? Pretending everything was normal never really was your strong suit.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, if you wanted a shower you’d better get on it. You couldn’t imagine the guys would be long. You picked out your clothes, and then stripped down in the room, leaving your clothes in a pile by the bed, before padding into the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

You had just gotten out of the tub when you heard the sharp knock on the door. Probably shouldn’t have stood under the hot water for what felt like 45 minutes after you’d finished washing up. You had just stayed there enjoying the warmth until the hot water started to go, and you’d forced yourself to turn the shower off.

You wrapped a towel around yourself, and walked over to the door, leaving a wet trail of foot prints. You shivered in the cold air, goosebumps erupting all over you. _Should have closed those damn windows_. You looked out the peephole, and made an exasperated noise. You couldn’t just leave them standing there. Well, you could, but then you’d have to listen to the bitching later. Still, your cheeks were pink when you flashed back to your earlier activities, and the fact that you were now in just a towel.

“Come on Y/N!” Called Dean “Open up.”

Shrugging your shoulders at no one, you pulled open the door, staying behind it so the whole street wouldn’t see you in just a towel. Dean quirked an eyebrow at your head sticking out around the door, smirking when he noticed your wet hair dripping, and the blush playing on your cheeks.

“Just get in here so I can close the door, you jerks.” You grumbled at them. They entered the room, and you didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes travelled up your body. You pressed your thighs together involuntarily as a jolt of pleasure hit you. Dean looked away, and you shifted on your feet a moment, before shutting the door and walking back to the washroom.

You closed the bathroom door behind yourself, and took a deep, steadying breath. _Don’t read into this, Dean would look at any girl in a towel like that. He probably can’t even help it._ You tried to rationalize with yourself, he probably didn’t even notice the way you’d reacted. He definitely hadn’t had any sort of reaction, right? He’d just been _looking_. That’s all.

You distracted yourself by drying your hair and getting dressed. You pulled on white cotton panties and a pink sports bra, then wiggled into jeans that were snug, but flexible. You finished off your outfit with a green t-shirt that featured a cartoon sloth hanging from a branch and read ‘Hang in there’. It still made you smile every time you wore it, even if it was a bit dorky. You had left a black zip up hoodie on the bed that you would throw on later. You didn’t bother with mascara this time, just a quick swipe of your lip balm. You looked at your blow dried hair, and wondered if you should just leave it down. Deciding it was more prudent to put it up, you pulled it into a quick messy bun. No sense getting yanked around by your hair, just for the sake of vanity.

By the time you finished getting ready, your heart rate had been returned to normal, feelings safely repressed. You were ready to get on with the hunt.

You left the bathroom, and saw Sam and Dean impatiently waiting for you. Dean drumming his fingers on the desk, sitting at the only chair, and Sam, laying back on the bed not full of your things.

“So, what are we looking at?” You asked, referring to whatever it was you were about to go hunt.

“Looks like a vengeful spirit of some kind.” Dean said, looking bored.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, fishing for more information.

“Yeah, we stopped at the library on the way back. Did a search and found out a woman named Constance Welch committed suicide by jumping off the bridge we stopped at earlier. She died in 1981.” Sam supplied helpfully.

“Well, that fits. Why’d she do it?” You questioned.

“Her two kids drowned in the tub. Husband said she couldn’t handle it, so she killed herself.” Dean answered. “Now that we’re all caught up, why don’t we head over and check out the bridge?”

You and Sam agreed, and you grabbed your hoodie off the bed. Which was about the same time as Dean actually noticing your shirt.

“Hang in there?” He asked, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“What? It’s cute! Look at the little sloth.” You answered, pointing to your chest. Dean’s eyebrow rose, and you realized you’d just basically invited him to openly look at your tits. “Just admit it’s adorable.”

“Hunters aren’t supposed to be adorable, Y/N.” Dean replied chuckling.

“I can be adorable _and_ badass, Dean. It’s my superpower.” You said lightly, pulling your hoodie on, and zipping up the front half-way.

Sam was standing at the door, waiting for you guys to hurry up, and you smiled as he opened the door for you. Turning your head to look at Dean, you couldn’t resist adding one last comment.

“At least one of you is a gentleman.” You joked.

“Pffft. If Sam is your idea of a gentleman, you really haven’t ever met any.” Dean retorted.

“Gee, thanks Dean.” Sam said, flashing half a smile, and stepping out the door after you.


	6. Chapter 6

When the three of you walked out onto the bridge, it was pitch black out. A thick fog was floating through the air, making everything extra creepy. Basically it was what you jokingly referred to as werewolf weather. Not because it was particularly common for werewolves to be out on a foggy, dark night. Nope, it was because once you’d heard a comedian joke about it, and it had stuck with you.

The night was chilly and you flipped your hood up to cover your head. Dean glanced back at you, with that entertained glint in his eye that made you feel like a wuss. You looked away, breath puffing in front of your face.

“So, this is where Constance took the swan dive.” Dean mused, his voice bringing your attention back to him. He was looking over into the water, Sam next to him, you walked slightly ahead. You were still trying to give them a bit of space to get back into their groove.

“So you think dad would have been here?” Sam asked, looking over at Dean. Dean tilted his head in a slight affirmative before answering his brother.

“Well, he’s chasing the same story and we’re chasing him.”

You stayed silent, eyes scanning the bridge.

“Okay, so now what?” Sam wondered, you could tell by the edge in his voice he was feeling antsy.

“Now we keep digging ‘til we find him. It might take a while.” Dean stated, like it should be fairly obvious to Sam. You shook your head, but figured it was wise to keep your mouth shut for now. You’d say something if either one got out of hand, but until then, it was probably best to just butt out. They’d basically forgotten you were there anyway.

“Dean.” Sam scoffed. “I told you, I gotta get back by-”

“Monday.” They finished together, and Dean was nodding, smiling, but the look in his eyes was all anger, and a trace of disappointment. You looked out over the water, not tuning them out, but trying to afford them some privacy.

“Right. The interview. I forgot.” Dean answered, voice skeptical, but light. “You’re really serious about this aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?”

Your head snapped up, _oh shit, here it comes_. You had the brief sensation that you were watching an episode of some trashy talk show, about to watch a family fight it out. You grimaced at Dean, knowing what was coming and knowing it needed to happen for them to work out their issues.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam retorted back seriously.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?” Dean questioned him, the mocking tone he used, pushing all of Sam’s buttons.

“No, and she’s not ever going to know.” Sam answered, stepping closer to Dean. You held your breath, waiting, hoping the fists weren’t about to start flying because, _swear to God,_ if you had to pry them apart, they were both going to have to answer to your wrath.

“Well that’s healthy.” Dean responded sarcastically. “You can pretend all you want Sammy, but sooner or later, you’re gonna have to face up to what you really are.”

You bit your lip, hard, so that you didn’t interrupt, because you sure as hell wanted to. Dean was being unfair, Sam was being unfair. They were both too damn pig headed to realize that neither of them was _wrong_. They were just different. You shook your head, not that they would notice.

“And who’s that?” Sam scoffed, as Dean turned away.

“You’re one of us.” Dean replied, not looking back, spreading his arms out as if to illustrate his point. Sam laughed bitterly.

“No. I’m _not_ like you. This is _not_ going to be my life.” Sam shot back, walking faster to get in front of Dean, and you winced again. That was a low blow. Made it seem like Dean’s life was less than, wasn’t as good as Sam’s.

“You have a responsibility.” Dean responded, voice hard.

“To Dad? And his crusade?” Sam asked, incredulous. “If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her… Mom’s gone and she isn’t coming back.”

Your eyes widened a fraction of a second before Dean grabbed Sam by his coat and slammed him into the side of the bridge. _Christ, Sam, even I know that you don’t bring up your mom in a fucking argument,_ you thought heatedly. You started moving closer in case things escalated, which it seemed they inevitably would, given how far Sam was pushing Dean. Dean just stared at Sam for a moment, fury blazing. Then pushed him slightly, fists still balled up in his coat.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He said quietly, voice thick with emotion. He let Sam go and stepped back. You breathed a sigh of relief. Your eyes going back to scanning the bridge.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, catching their attention, waving a hand towards the ghostly figure standing on the rail of the bridge. She had long dark hair, that hung past her shoulders, and a tattered ankle length white dress. She looked at you, pretty face sad.

The three of you ran forward as she leaned, then stepped off and plummeted over the edge of the bridge, dress fluttering around her.

“Shit!” You cursed, leaning over the edge, scanning the water below.

Dean was beside you instantly, followed by Sam.

“Where’d she go?” Dean asked, looking over the edge as well.

“I don’t know.” Sam answered, glancing over at the water below.

The sound of the impala’s engine rumbling startled all three of you. The lights flicked on as you looked over to where it was idling at the end of the bridge.

“What the f-” Dean started to curse, walking out a little to get a better look at the car.

“Who’s driving your car?” Sam questioned. Your heart pounded in your chest, you were a hundred and ten percent certain you’d seen Dean pocket the car keys. Your hand flew up to your mouth, as he confirmed the fact, pulling the keys from his jeans and dangling them for the two of you to see. Sam’s mouth dropped open just before the squealing of the tires alerted you all to the impending danger.

Dean reached out and grabbed your hand instinctively, yelling at you to go. He pulled you into a run, as the car began to speed towards you. You ran as fast as you could, keeping up with Dean, but the car was faster, and gaining. It was too close; you were never going to make it to the end. Dean dragged you toward the railing, and you knew exactly what he wanted.

The three of you threw yourselves over the edge, plunging down, you gasped a lung full of air quickly. You hit the water feet first, and were instantly under, the cold shooting pain through you. You’d lost hold of Dean’s hand during the fall, and you kicked hard toward the surface of the water.

Finally, your head breached the surface, and you brushed the hair wet hair out of your face so you could suck in a breath without choking down water. You looked around frantically for Dean, and saw him treading water a few feet away, looking for you.

“Over here!” You managed, swimming towards him. The two of you were dragging yourselves up onto shore, when you heard Sam calling the two of you from above.

“Are you alright?” He yelled, concerned. You were both freezing, covered in mud, but alive. Nothing broken either, so you figured that counted as alright. Dean signaled you were alright, and you gave Sam thumbs up, falling back to lay against the shore next to Dean.

“I’m super.” Dean called back to Sam.

“I’m cold.” You yelled, trying to keep from whining, but failing. They both cracked up and you glared momentarily before dissolving into laughter yourself.

You and Dean took a few minutes to recover and catch your breath. Dean sat up, which was exactly when you noticed for the first time how caked in mud Dean was and you broke down into laughter again. He raised an eyebrow at you, wondering what was so funny.

“You’re so… dirty…Dean…” You managed between laughs.

“Hey, you’re not exactly clean yourself, princess.” Dean chuckled. You reached up and touched your hair, mud coating it thickly.

“Probably this stuff is just like a mud bath.” You joked. “Maybe my hair will look even better after this.”

Dean patted you on the head, and you felt like a dope, but it was kind of sweet. You decided to go with it, smiling up at him. You felt something warm in your chest, and you tried to push it down, choke it back so it wouldn’t show on your face. You heard Sam laugh up on the bridge, and then saw him pulling himself up.

“Better get our filthy asses up there.” You said, motioning to the bridge. “Oh, we are gonna _wreck_ Baby’s interior.” Your eyes widened, knowing how much Dean loved the impala.

“I don’t even have towels.” He groaned. You felt kind of bad, but you were freezing, and you smelled awful. You just wanted to get to a motel and get cleaned up.

Dean stood up, and helped you to your feet. You trudged after him, sneakers slurping wetly, and made your way back up to the car.

Sam was waiting, leaning up against the bumper when the two of you arrived. Dean immediately popped the hood, while Sam straightened up and looked at you, trying not to laugh. You raised an eyebrow archly, daring him to say something about your mud covered self. Wisely, he contained his laughter. The hood slammed shut, and Sam glanced back at Dean.

“Car okay?” You asked, hoping to hell he was gonna say yes so that you could get out of here. Your hands were starting to shake from the cold, and you were pretty sure that if your face wasn’t covered in mud, your lips would be blue. You never did do well with cold.

“Yeah. Whatever she did to it, it seems alright now. That Constance chick,” Dean grumbled. “WHAT A BITCH!”

“Well, she doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure. So where’s the trail go from here, genius?” Sam asked Dean. “You two smell like a toilet.” He added as an afterthought, grimacing.

“Bite me, Sam.” You said, tone light, eyes giving him a dirty look. He flashed a smile, and tried, unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. You held your head up, and walked toward the impala, opening the front passenger door and lowering yourself in.

“Shotgun.” You called back, shutting the door behind yourself. Even with the doors closed, you heard the loud sound of Sam’s laugh, before the two of them joined you.


	7. Chapter 7

You had gone back to the room as soon as you’d gotten to the motel, while Dean and Sam had decided to go see if there was another room free yet. By the time you’d made it to the motel, it was early morning, and the sun was up. Dean had wanted a shower every bit as badly as you did, but when he saw you shivering, he’d told you to go first. You’d tried to insist that he go first, and after a little back and forth, you’d agreed to shower while they checked if they could get their own room.

For the second time that day you found yourself in the shower, and as you rinsed away the mud, your thoughts drifted back to earlier. Your dream came back to you with astounding clarity, and you felt your skin heat at the memory. You remembered the feel of his rough hands against your hard nipples, and felt a shot of pleasure shoot straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together, and closed your eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t let yourself fantasize about Dean. He was your friend, he had no feelings for you other than the friendly variety. You were going to end up with your heart broken, and it wouldn’t even be Dean’s fault. You tried to focus on shampooing and conditioning your hair, but as your worked the conditioner, you felt familiar tingles traveling from your scalp straight between your legs.

You knew that you were wet, and your pussy was throbbing. Still, you steadfastly tried to ignore it. You grabbed your body wash, and cleaned every inch of yourself, making sure you got all of the dried on mud off. You heard your phone buzz, just as you were about to turn off the shower. You hopped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping yourself in it. You picked the phone up from the bathroom counter and saw that Dean was calling. You flipped the phone open.

“Hey, got a room?” You asked, trying to keep your hair from dripping on the phone.

“Kind of. You still in the bathroom?” He questioned, hearing the sound of the shower running.

“Yep. Should be done in like 10ish.” You replied.

“Alright. When you’re ready, come over to room 10.” He told you, and you agreed to go.

Once you’d hung up, you towel dried your hair quickly, finger combing it until it looked like it might dry half decently. You headed over to your bag, and pulled out some clothes. Despite your exhaustion, you knew sleep wasn’t happening any time soon, not with lives at risk here. You pulled on your underwear, bra, a pair of faded, snug jeans, and a grey tee that read ‘Weekends are for waffles’. You slipped a dark grey zip up hoodie on, but didn’t bother to zip it. You were in room 8, so you’d only be outside for like 30 seconds.

You pulled on socks and the boots you’d packed, looking forlornly at your ruined comfy sneakers. With a sigh, you left the room and locked up.

You walked over and knocked on the boy’s door, arms crossed over your chest to keep out the cold. Sam opened it, and let you in. Your eyes flew around the room, taking in the newspaper clippings all over the walls, the in front of the door.

“John’s room?” You asked, moving to look at the stuff on the wall by the bed. You could hear the shower running and figured Dean was still washing up. You felt a little flicker of heat at the thought of Dean, totally naked, wet just a door away. You squashed down on those thoughts fast, turning to glance at Sam.

“Yeah.” Sam answered, letting you look around. The room was a mess, stuff all over the bed, and it smelled considerably worse in here than it had in your room. You followed along the walls, eyes flipping from notes to articles, to pieces of lore. Your eyes caught on a hand written note, above the little desk; woman in white, you let out a low whistle.

“Guess he figured out what we’re dealing with.” You said, nodding to the article about Constance Welch beneath the note.

“Looks like.” Sam replied. “I just found her husband’s address, so once Dean’s done we’re going to go find out where Constance is buried. That’s what dad would have done.”

You nodded, you’d gotten wrapped up in the case, forgotten the whole reason Sam had come along was to find John. It had felt so good to be hunting, with reliable partners, that you’d let it slip your mind. _Sam’s only temporary_ , you reminded yourself, _don’t get attached_.

You knew of course, that it was already too late. You’d already gotten used to his steady presence. You just hoped that somewhere along the way, between now and when Dean dropped him back at Stanford, that you could convince him to keep in touch. At least to let you know he was doing alright.

“Hey, Sam.” You began, unsure how you were going to finish your thought.

“What’s up, Y/N?” He asked, looking over at you with those big hazel eyes. You swallowed, feeling kind of pathetic for getting worked up now. Couldn’t this wait until you actually were saying goodbye?

“I just… I want you to know I was always happy for you.” You told him, going with honesty. “I mean, for getting out. I was never angry at you. I know what your dad said, and I wanted you to know I don’t feel the same. I’ll always be your friend, and maybe you could keep in touch when you go back this time? Just let me know you’re doing okay once in a while?”

Sam looked surprised, both at your words and the shiny wetness pooling in your eyes. You brushed your sleeves under your eyes, trying to make it look casual, but not even coming close.

“I’m not crying.” You said, convincing neither of you. Sam walked over and wrapped his arms around you. They were warm and strong, and you choked down the hurt that was trying to come out. You wrapped your arms around his waist, hands fisting the back of his shirt.

Once, you’d been like siblings, and although you weren’t upset with him for leaving, being cut out of his life had stung. You’d missed having someone to confide in. It wasn’t like you had a bunch of close friends, not with your lifestyle. The closest things you had were the Winchesters. _Jesus, that’s kind of sad,_ you thought. And, considering your feelings for Dean, and the fact he wasn’t really the sympathetic type, you’d been bottling things up basically since Sam had left.

“It’s okay.” He soothed. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me. I promise I’ll keep in touch.”

You took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of soap and Sam, and felt yourself relax.

“I’m okay.” You mumbled against his chest, wiping your face quickly on his shirt. “Your shirt’s a little wet. Probably because you spilled something. Definitely not tears or anything.”

Sam chuckled, and you released your hold on him. He gave you a little squeeze before pulling away.

“Well, now that the chick flick moment is over, why don’t we get something to eat? I’m starving.” Dean grumbled, causing you to jump. How much of your little break down had he witnessed? Embarrassment flamed pink on your cheeks. “Unless you two ladies need some time to braid each others hair?”

“Do we have time for that?” You asked, trying to seem unconcerned.

“Only if I can go first.” Dean joked, winking at you.

“Sorry Dean, I don’t think your hair’s long enough for a braid.” You laughed. “Let’s grab some lunch.”

Sam looked at his phone, and then up to you guys. He started dialing his voicemail, chewing on his thumb.

“You two go ahead. I’ll catch up.” He said. You could faintly hear the sound of his girlfriend’s voice on the message, and you nodded, smiling.

“Sure, thing Sam. Want anything?” You asked, following Dean to the door.

“No, I’m good.” He answered, sitting on the bed, trying to focus.

“Y/N, let’s go. I’m friggin’ wasting away here.” Dean exaggerated. You turned and rolled your eyes at Sam before you walked out the door.

You hadn’t gone more than a couple steps out the door before Dean stopped abruptly. You bumped into his back, and heard him mumble something at you about running. You looked around him panicked, and saw the cops from earlier along with the front desk guy. _Shitty, shitty, shit, shit!_

You started to walk casually away from Dean, pretending you didn’t know him. He’d already been spotted, no sense in both of you being arrested. You heard him talking to Sam on the phone, something about 5-0, but you pretended you weren’t listening.

You had almost made it to the end of the row of motel rooms, opposite to where the cops were approaching Dean. You breathed a sigh of relief, not believing you were actually getting away. A grin plastered itself on your face, until you rounded the corner and came face to face with another cop. _Fuck me,_ you groaned to yourself.

“Where do you think you’re going little Miss?” He asked you, sounding very authoritarian. He probably couldn’t have said anything that would have pissed you off more, and you fought the urge to deck him. Adding assault to whatever they were planning to charge you with, probably wasn’t wise.

“Just on my way to my car officer. Is there a problem?” You asked sweetly, using your best I’m-totally-innocent voice.

“Nice try, girl. We know you’re here with that guy.” He said nodding to Dean and sounding unimpressed.

“Who? Mr. Aframian? I just met that guy last night.” You smiled, playing dumb. “We had a real good time, but I don’t think he’s the relationship type. Do you?”

The officer looked momentarily confused, scratched the back of his head, then seemed to make up his mind.

“Either way, ma’am, you’ll need to come with us until we can clear this up.” He told you sternly.

“Fine.” You said stiffly. “But I want a lawyer. I haven’t done anything wrong, _officer_.”

The officer motioned behind you to the car, and you saw Dean slammed down on the hood. Knowing Dean, he’d probably been his usual _charming_ self with the officers and ticked them off. Great. This hunt was going _swell._


	8. Chapter 8

You sat at the table in the interrogation room, looking around bored. You’d already asked for a lawyer, and you had no doubt that Dean was corroborating your story of having just met. You weren’t sweating it though, they really had nothing on you. Hell, they didn’t even have your real name. You’d gone with Patricia Joplin. Combining two of your favorite music icons, to make a normal sounding name. The music references would never stop amusing you.

One way or another, you’d be walking out of here free. You were waiting either for the lawyer to get there (and really who knows how long that would be) or (much more likely) for Dean to come in and get you.

Normally, you would have just walked out of here by now, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to stop you. It’s not like they’d cuffed you, you were just sitting and waiting, thanks to the magical L word. But you didn’t want to make it harder for Dean to make his escape, so you opted to wait for him.

You laid your head down on the desk, tired, and closed your eyes just to rest. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and especially not in such an awkward position, but you had. You woke to someone shaking your shoulder, and you jumped to your feet, fists balled up in case you needed to swing.

You heard a chuckle, and realized it was Dean. You turned and glared up into those gorgeous green eyes.

“Can’t believe you slept that way.” He whispered.

“Can’t believe I didn’t knock you out.” You whispered back, which only made him chuckle again. You stretched, muscles sore from the bad sleep position.

“Ready to get out of here Y/N?” Dean asked, moving to peak out the door.

“Anytime now sweetheart.” You said in a saccharine tone. “I’ve just been waiting on you.”

You shadowed Dean out of the cop station, letting him take the lead. The two of you made it out of the station without any hitches, and took off. Once you’d gotten a safe distance away, Dean looked for a payphone, and you trailed behind him.

He had that look on his face. The look that said some serious shit was going down, and that it was a hell of a lot deeper than a woman in white. You didn’t press though; he’d tell you when he was ready. You figured it was family stuff, because you hadn’t missed the fact that he had John’s journal tucked under one arm. You’d been around John enough to know that he didn’t go anywhere without that damn journal. If he’d left it behind, something dark was definitely happening.

Dean slipped into the booth, and left the door open. You stood in the entrance and listened in while he called Sam. You watched Dean out of the corner of your eye, trying not to stare as you kept an eye on him.

“Fake 9-1-1 phone call Sammy. I dunno, that’s pretty illegal.” He started off. You couldn’t hear Sam’s response, so you waited to hear what Dean would reply.

“Listen we gotta talk.” Dean said, turning to catch your eye. He was letting you know that he was talking to you as well as Sam. You turned to face him, eyes locking with his. The eye contact had butterflies in your stomach, which you pointedly ignored. You vaguely heard Sam interrupting him, before Dean cut him off.

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second!” Dean exclaimed, looking frustrated. “Well that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho.”

Your eyes widened a little, and Dean didn’t miss it, dropping his own to the ground. John had left in the middle of a hunt? When he’d clearly put 2 and 2 together? He’d _let_ more people die? What the _fucking hell_ was going on! Your attention snapped back to Dean when he spoke again.

“I got his Journal.” He paused, listening to Sam. “Yeah, well he did this time.”

You watched as Dean shut down, his face shuttering, as he pushed his emotions back. He wasn’t going to let Sam know how much this worried him, bothered him. _Always protecting Sam, Dean, but who protects you?_

“Nah, it’s the same old ex-marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he’s going.” Dean told him.

“I’m not sure yet.” You waited patiently while Sam spoke to Dean, then you heard the faint sound of tires squealing. Dean’s eyes flew up to yours, wide with fear for Sam.

“Sam. Sam!” Dean yelled into the receiver. “Sammy what the hell is going on?!”

Your hands had flown up to your mouth, the suspense was killing you. Dean dropped the phone and pushed you out of the way. He took off running, and it only took you a second to get your act together and chase him. There was only one reason that Dean would take off like that, Sam was in danger. Dean wasn’t running aimlessly either, which meant he knew where he was going.

“Dean,” You gasped as your feet pounded into the ground. “Where?”

He didn’t answer you at all, just kept running, hard. You pushed yourself harder, and kept just a little behind him. You weren’t entirely sure where he was going, but you were piecing it together. Sam must have been on the highway, doubling back to get you. What if Constance had got him? _That Constance chick_ _IS a BITCH,_ you thought angrily, echoing Dean’s earlier sentiment.

 _But there’s no fucking way, at all, that Sam is a cheater._ You knew Sam like the back of your hand, and _that_ was so far out of character, that it was laughable. Or it would be, if you weren’t currently gasping air into your burning lungs, trying to keep your breathing in check as you ran. You didn’t pay attention to your surroundings, eyes glued to Dean’s back, trailing behind him a bit.

After what felt like forever to your troubled mind, you saw the outline of a house. _The Welch’s house_ , you figured, _made sense._ Constance had said she couldn’t go home. It still didn’t make sense though, that she’d taken Sam, of all people. Seriously, Dean was a way more likely candidate for this sort of thing, you’d have guessed.

You saw the impala up ahead, and Dean was pulling out his gun, you skidded to a stop next to him just as he shot into the car, shattering the window. You saw Constance straddling Sam, and as Dean continued to fire, she flickered and disappeared. She was gone just long enough for Sam to turn the keys in the ignition and switch the car into gear. Your heart was pounding, deafening in your ears as Sam hit the gas.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, eyes flashing to his brother.

“I’m taking you home.” You heard Sam say with determination.

The car squealed, then surged forward, toward the house. You covered your ears as it slammed through the little fence out front, then flew up the front porch, crashing through the old wood, and then finally rammed through the front wall. Even with your ears covered, you heard sound of smashing wood, shattering glass and scraping metal.

Dean stood for half a second with an almost comical, stunned, look on his face, before rushing up the steps, gun drawn. You tore up them beside him, fear for Sam’s well being clearly out weighing your own instinct for self preservation. Unlike Dean, your weapons were in the car.

“Sam?” You and Dean both called out at the same time, he flashed you an annoyed look, like somehow you’d jinxed him on purpose.

“Here.”

“You okay?”

You jogged to the driver’s side while Dean ran to the passengers. You clambered over the debris blocking the door, and leaned through the shot out window to see if he was alright. Sam was staring forward, and he seemed a bit shocked as Dean flung the door open.

“I think.” Sam answered, a little bewildered. Dean climbed in the passenger side a little, getting Sam’s attention.

“Can you move?” Dean questioned, crawling in to help his brother.

“Yeah, help me.” Sam grunted, reaching for Dean’s hand. Dean was helping him out when you were distracted by the sight of Constance, walking over to a broken picture frame on the ground and picking it up.

“Guys!” You half yelled, half whispered at them, tilting your head in her direction.

She looked up at Sam and Dean angrily, throwing the frame to the floor, and stepping to her left. You gasped as a set of drawers slid rapidly across the floor, pinning Sam and Dean to the impala. That was your tipping point. You tossed yourself through the shattered window, onto the glass covered seat, your bag was in the back seat, with an iron rod inside it. You scrambled over the seat, hoping Constance hadn’t noticed you.

You could hear Dean and Sam grunting painfully as they struggled against the dresser. You pulled your bag up onto the back seat, ripped it open, and just as your hand closed around the rod, you noticed the lights flickering outside the car.

Still, you ignored it and flipped back into the front seat. You climbed out the window, got ready to jump onto the hood and launch yourself at Constance. That was when you noticed that she’d frozen, a panicked look on her face. She turned around, and you saw the water dripping down the stairs. _Holy fucking shit_ , you thought, staring.

Constance was moving to look up the stairs, you couldn’t see what she was looking at from your position, but then again, you weren’t sure you wanted to. The cases with kids always really got to you. You glanced down at Dean and Sam, who were leaned forward, trying to get a better look at what was going on.

“You’ve come home to us mommy.” You heard voices whisper from up the steps. You kept still, hoping this was going to resolve itself. Taking out three ghosts at once, two of them kids, wasn’t on your list of fun things to do.

In a flash, two soaking wet kids were standing in front of Constance, reaching for her. She screamed as they wrapped their tiny arms around her. Her head was thrown back, fluctuating between normal, and something resembling a skeleton. Visually, it was fucking horrific, then in a burst of blue and black flames, screeching all the while, she vanished into a black puddle. The sound of a bathtub draining slurped, and the blue-black liquid melted into the floor until nothing was left save for a small clear bit of water.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and let yourself slide back into the car to catch your breath. Your heart rate was rapidly slowing to normal, when you heard Sam and Dean knock the dresser over, freeing themselves. They walked over to the puddle, and you took the opportunity to open the passenger door, and climb out.

“So that’s where she drowned her kids then?” You asked, a little sad for the kids, but relieved that the ghosts were gone. Sam glanced back at you, still catching his breath.

“That’s why she could never go home.” Sam replied, then looked back to Dean. “She was too scared to face ‘em.”

“You found her weak spot.” Dean congratulated, patting him on the chest. “Nice work Sammy.”

Sam laughed, as Dean headed back over your way to survey the damage done to his poor Baby. The car, not you of course.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you!” Sam exclaimed, still laughing. “What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey! Saved your ass.” Dean said, grinning back. “I’ll tell you another thing: If you screwed up my car, I’ll kill you.”

It was at that point that both brothers noticed the iron rod you were still holding. Dean raised an eyebrow, Sam grinned.

“What?” You asked, feeling touchy. “I was going to save both of your asses, ladies!”

That earned you a chorus of what could only be defined as giggles from both boys. You scoffed, smiling, and tossed the weapon into the back seat of the car.


	9. Chapter 9

You had almost fallen asleep in the back of the impala, when you heard Sam telling Dean quietly that he’d found the coordinates John left them on the map. The coordinates corresponded to a place called Black Water Ridge, in Colorado.

“Sounds Charming.” Dean said flatly, “How far?”

“About 600 miles.” Sam answered.

“If we shake ass, we can make it by morning.” Dean suggested. Your eyes flew open; this was the awkward moment you’d been waiting for. The other shoe dropping. You quickly shut your eyes, going the I’m-asleep-don’t-ask-me route.

“Dean. I, um…” Sam trailed, uncomfortably. You could feel the momentary silence settle like a dense fog in the car.

“You’re not going.” Dean stated, incredulous, and you could picture the hurt look on Dean’s face. It would be all big green eyes, and pouty lips masquerading as anger instead of pain. You opened one eye to peak, not being able to resist, feeling like you were intruding.

“The interview’s in like 10 hours. I gotta be there.” Sam tried to explain, knowing Dean wouldn’t understand. Knowing he wouldn’t even try to. “And besides, you’ve got Y/N for backup. You know, if that ghost hadn’t have stopped, she really would have saved our asses. She’s a good hunter Dean. She’ll help you find Dad.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the praise. Damn Skippy you would have saved their bacon. Sam clearly thought you were asleep, because you very much doubted he would have given the mushy, Y/N is awesome speech had he known you were conscious.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I’ll take you home.” Dean responded, trying to keep his voice light, a smile on his face. Your heart squeezed, the disguised pain in his voice was like a punch to the gut. You closed your eye again, knowing you should cede them that privacy.

It took everything in you not to reach out and try to comfort Dean. First, you knew he wouldn’t want it. Second, you knew it wouldn’t help anyway. Nothing you could do would make the abandonment he felt any better.

You would easily promise to stay with him, you would without a doubt tell him you’d never leave, but it wouldn’t matter. You weren’t his family, and you knew that was what mattered most to Dean. So no, trying to make him feel better, wouldn’t cut it. Instead, you kept quiet.

The rest of the drive passed in a strained silence, Dean pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment, and a profound sense of loss enveloped you. You stretched, pretending to wake up, yawning. Your yawn turned into a real one mid-way through. One of those embarrassing, ridiculously loud yawns, and it managed to elicit a chuckle out of Sam. You smiled sadly, you were going to miss his easy laugh. Sam opened the door, and got out. He leaned back through the window to say his goodbye to Dean.

“Maybe I can meet up with you later, hunh?” He offered, and you felt warmth flood your chest. This was Sam extending an olive branch to Dean. This was him trying to hold onto their relationship in a way that he could.

“Yeah. Right.” Dean said, disappointment clear in his voice. You shot him a dirty look but he didn’t notice.

You climbed out of the car to say your goodbye to Sam, and to move up to shotgun. You shuffled your feet for a minute before looking up at Sam. He was smiling at you, it was that heart wrenching, sad smile that he’d worn the last time you’d seen him. When he’d known he was taking off for Stanford, but you hadn’t.

“Sam, I-” You tried, voice cutting off.

“Y/N, I really am sorry.” He said, holding his arms open for a hug. You threw yourself into it, squeezing him hard, refusing to shed more tears. _I’m stronger than this, I’m not going to cry, Jesus. He’s not dead, he’s going to fucking college._

“I know.” You answered, tilting your head back to look at him. “Take care of yourself Sam. And Jesus Christ, call me sometimes. Number’s still the same, douche.”

You let go of him when he nodded, and climbed into the car, across from Dean. You were both watching Sam walk away, when Dean called out to him.

“Sam! We made a hell of a team back there.” He told him with a smile, the compliment was sincere.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded in agreement.

Dean turned back to face the front and slid the impala into drive. You could see Sam in the side view mirror looking after the car as you drove away. A few tears you couldn’t supress wiggled free. You weren’t sure if you were sad for you, or Dean, or Sam, or all of you, but it managed to leak out and fall down your face. Dean glanced over when you sniffled, and looked like he wanted to say something. You shook your head, and brusquely wiped the tears away.

“I’m fine.” You lied thickly. “Just some dust or something. Clearly I’m not crying. What do you think I am? He’s not dead, he’s going to school. I’m fine.”

Dean smirked, and nodded, pretending to believe you. Suddenly he pulled a U-turn. You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask. Maybe he was going to patch things up with Sam? Maybe he realized he was kind of being an ass? Either way, he was screeching to a stop and running up to Sam’s apartment. You stared after him, mouth open a bit, not believing that Dean Winchester was going to go deal with his issues instead of burying them six feet down.

You looked up at the building, and that’s when you saw the smoke pouring out of one of the windows. You jumped out of the car about to run in after Dean while you did some quick mental math to figure out the apartment number. The door Dean had gone in just minutes before was flung open and he was dragging Sam out, kicking and screaming. You could hear him screaming ‘Jess’ over and over in the most pained wail you’d ever heard. You had no idea what was happening, and you were too shocked to move. Dean was dragging Sam to the car, and the apartment was on fire, and what the hell was happening??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I hope you enjoyed this little adventure. I'm planning to hopefully write a new episode once a week or two. :D If you enjoyed it, leave me a little note to let me know! This is the longest piece of fanfiction I've ever written, and to be honest, it's length surprised me! I had no idea what I was committing to, but I kind of love it, and I hope you do as well!


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